


Wrong letter

by apatheticMarmalade (Lemonerix)



Series: Past works that I've loved and love [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, canonverse, pre confession stuff, sappy words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:34:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27305647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemonerix/pseuds/apatheticMarmalade
Summary: It was Sunday, so he was in no rush because he knew that he had the whole day to himself. Arthur was then reminded of his responsibilities, the papers he had to sign, and of course, “the letter” he wrote to a certain country. A chill ran down his spine, he didn’t recall seeing the envelope containing “that letter” on his desk that morning. He dropped his utensils on the table and swore loudly before dashing to his office.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Series: Past works that I've loved and love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993606
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	Wrong letter

**Author's Note:**

> A past work I really loved and love at the moment. It was actually the second thing I wrote after a long break, so maybe it's a little weird with minor errors and all. This was for day one of USUK week this year, prompts are: Mistakes/Canonverse

“May I come in, sir?”

A faint “Enter.” came from behind the door, and Howard opened it to find his boss sitting on his desk, signing papers and organizing documents. It wasn’t unusual to see his boss hunched over his paperwork, with a cup of tea on his desk as the air filled with the melody from the old gramophone he owned. The man walked over to his boss, “You summoned me, what can I help you with, sir?” he asked, bowing his head down slightly.

“How many times have I told you to call me ‘Arthur’ whenever we’re alone? You’re making me feel much older than I really am.” The blonde man asked his subordinate.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, I don’t see it fit for someone like me to call you by your name so casually.”

“Now you’re just making it seem like I’m not human. Well, I’m not really, but you get the point.” Arthur waved his arm around as he spoke. He took a sip from his cup and leaned back on his chair, “Anyway, it seems like I’ll be stuck in this room until evening if I want to get all of this paperwork done by tomorrow. Can you send these letters for me, Howard?” Arthur asked as he handed the man several envelopes with seals on them. He knew what the seals meant, he nodded and took the letters into his hands. “Anything else, sir?” he asked.

“Tell the chef to cook dinner early, and also tell the rest of the household that they may leave early today.” Arthur quickly said to Howard before he left the room.

After heading to the kitchen and telling the staff to head home early, Howard picked up his things from his office and left the house. He made sure to deposit the letters in the letterbox before he headed home. Little did he know, a certain letter to a certain nation wasn’t meant to be sent that afternoon.

.

The pain in his back woke up Arthur from his slumber. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he rubbed the small of his back as he straightened his posture, “Bloody hell, I think I am growing old.” He said to himself as he stood up and stretched his body. He glanced at the clock on his desk and noted that the time was ten minutes after five. The sun was beginning to peek from the hills, birds have begun their songs and a few early risers were on the streets walking their pets or going for their morning jog. England turned off his gramophone, which he accidentally forgot to turn off the previous night, and retrieved the half-full tea cup from his desk. A look of discomfort passed through his face as he sipped the drink before he realized that it had gone cold. Muttering to himself, he went out of his office to re-heat his tea and make himself breakfast (hopefully, without incident).

By some kind of miracle, England made himself breakfast without having to call the fire department again. This was a small victory for him, he sat down on a chair and ate his meal, feeling rather proud of himself. It was Sunday, so he was in no rush because he knew that he had the whole day to himself. Arthur was then reminded of his responsibilities, the papers he had to sign, and of course, “the letter” he wrote to a certain country. A chill ran down his spine, he didn’t recall seeing the envelope containing “that letter” on his desk that morning. He dropped his utensils on the table and swore loudly before dashing to his office.

He swung open the door and immediately searched the top of his desk, then under it, then his drawers. He sat on his chair in exhaustion and panic, then he heard something crinkle beneath him. In his frantic search, he did not notice the small white envelope on his chair. He grabbed it and felt his heart slow down, the panic he felt went away as he sighed in relief.

_Thank God._

Yet, there was an itching feeling that he couldn’t shake off. Something compelled him to open the envelope and read the letter in it. He did so and felt his blood run south, “Oh no.” He re-read the contents of the letter to make sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks with him. He wanted to believe that the letter in his hands was a copy. Oh, how much he wanted to believe that. Arthur buried his face in his hands, muffling his scream of frustration and embarrassment.

The letters he asked Howard to send for him contained the outlines of the subjects to be discussed in the next G8 meeting being held in his country. Seven letters meant for seven countries, and out of the seven, one of those letters wasn’t meant to be sent. Arthur knew he had no one else to blame but himself. He should’ve paid more attention to what he was doing, and if he did, he might have actually sent the right letter. He knew he dug up his own grave, but he wasn’t sure if he could actually face the heartbreak waiting for him. He knew that he could do nothing about it, letters with ‘seals’ are immediately sent to the nation they were addressed to. Feeling defeated, Arthur slumped down on his chair and prayed that America doesn’t check his mail that often.

.

Poor Brit, he does not know that Alfred checks his mail every day because of the many items he orders online.

“Package for…Mr. Alfred Jones?”

Alfred ran towards the door; he opened it and greeted the delivery man on his doorstep. After signing for the package, he picked up the huge box on his porch and said goodbye to the delivery man. After he turned the doorknob, something fluttered to the ground from the top of the package.

“Huh, what’s this?” he muttered to himself as he picked up the envelope with his free arm. It had a ‘seal’ on it, so he suspected that it came from one of the nations. Kicking the door close, he set down the box in his arms and looked for a box cutter.

Alfred completely forgot about his package, he only wondered what the letter contained as he went into the kitchen. He found a box cutter in one of the drawers, then he sat down on his kitchen table. With a blade in his hand, he broke the seal of the envelope. He took out the letter and read it. He felt butterflies in his stomach when he saw who it was from, then his jaw slacked when he read what was written on the paper. “Arthur…” his lips quivered as the name passed through his lips.

_Oh, God. If this is some kind of trick, then that’s just cruel._

His face still flush, he sat on table and stared at the paper. He wasn’t sure if what he was reading was true, or if it was just an elaborate prank by England. But he knew that the Englishman wasn’t the type to pull pranks, and he could confirm that the handwriting was his. He read the letter again and felt his face warm up again, his lips twitching into a smile, “This can’t be real.” He said to himself. Alfred didn’t want to believe that Arthur “liked, liked him”, because that would be too good to be true. But there could be a chance that the Brit actually had feelings for him. He drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes fell to the words that made his heart beat erratically.

_“…I cannot keep on hiding my feelings for you anymore, it’s become so overwhelming. I think I might fancy you, Alfred…”_

The letter was filled with extravagant words and metaphors that would’ve made Shakespeare jealous, but those phrases were the only ones that mattered to the American. He couldn’t care less if he could barely understand half the words, all he knew was that Arthur fell for him. And that was enough for him to gather his courage and respond to the island nation’s confession.

With a happy sigh, he looked for a pen and a piece of paper.

.

England waited anxiously for the other nations to arrive; he was especially nervous about America. He paced back and forth the room, occasionally adjusting his tie, and whispering to himself.

_Did he receive the letter? Did he read it? God, he probably thinks I’m some sappy old fart right now._

He flinched when the door opened, “Good Morning, England.” Japan greeted as he closed the door behind him. “Good Morning, Japan. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the nation’s designated seat. The Japanese man noticed that England seemed troubled, “Is there something bothering you, Mr. England?” he asked. The other man stopped pacing back and forth, “No! No, there’s nothing wrong. Why do you ask?” England smiled nervously.

“Because…never mind.” Japan decided that he shouldn’t press the other nation. He noted how England exhaled in relief and sit down on his chair. The room was silent for a whole minute until England slammed his hands on the table, slightly scaring Japan. “Mr. England, is there something wrong?” Japan asked, now worried for the other nation. England’s face was flushed red, he didn’t know if he should ask Japan advice. “Mr. England?” The Japanese man slowly rose from his chair, he planned to go closer to the island nation and ask if he was alright but before he could, England blurted out, “Japan, can I ask you a question?”

“Uhm, ye…yes?”

“Wh…what if, hypothetically, I sent a letter with very sensitive information to someone accidentally, and they read it? What do you think their reaction would be?”

Japan blinked as he registered the question, “Well…” he rubbed his chin, “It depends on the type of letter you sent them, and the type of person they are. If you sent them a confession to a crime, they might report you to the authorities or if you sent them a confession of love, they might reciprocate your feelings, or use it as blackmail.” The man stated bluntly. England’s eye twitched, “Ah, I see.” He slumped down his chair and the room suddenly went cold. “E…England-san? Is e…everything alright?” Japan asked, slightly scared at how the room suddenly turned gloomy. “Yes…everything is fine…”

“Bu…but, why does this seem like I did something wrong?” The Japanese man whispered to himself.

“YO, THE HERO’S HERE!” The door burst open as America entered the room. Japan let out an involuntary yelp, “A-America!” England shot up from his seat, his heart racing. America blinked and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Uh, what’s up dudes?” he greeted in a small voice. His eyes were darting everywhere but he refused to look at England. The Englishman cleared his throat, “America, please head to your designated seat while we wait for the others to arrive.” The nation complied and sat in his seat. Japan watched the strange interaction of the two countries. Usually they would be yelling at each other’s faces, but they weren’t. Did something happen between them?

He looked at England who was wringing his fingers on the table, his face was redder than normal and he kept on stealing glances at the American. Then he turned to America, who was drumming his fingers on the table nervously, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and his eyes kept on glancing at the English nation’s general direction. Gears were turning in Japan’s mind, he knew that this kind of thing would just happen in a manga, but he wondered if something happened between America and England. Did one of them confess their feelings to the other? Did they get rejected or were the feelings mutual? Japan himself was getting flustered with the ideas going on through his head. He decided that he should play matchmaker as a plan formed in his mind.

Japan shot up from his seat, “Excuse me Mr. England, I must use the restroom! I will return!” He loudly announced and ran out of the room before he could receive any reaction. He knew that it was rude to just leave the two nations alone, but it was the only way he could play matchmaker.

.

The door slammed close as Japan rushed outside, England and America were alone. There was a very awkward silence between them that seemed to last for eternity. The two nations pretended that the other did not exist, making their situation more awkward than it is. Finally, England broke the ice, “It’s not very often that you come early.” America glanced at the other man, who was facing away from him, “Ye…yeah. My flight was early, and I thought that being punctual was a little achievement of mine.” The American chuckled lightly at the end of his sentence. Green eyes gazed at Alfred momentarily before looking back at the grey wall, “That must be delightful.” England replied. They were enveloped in silence once again. America broke the silence this time, “How about you dude? Is being host a bit stressful or something?”

“I guess? I mean, I have been hosting more times than I can count so I don’t really worry much, but there would always be that looming feeling that everything might go wrong.” The Englishman smiled slightly, but it faded away quickly. They attempted to make small talk, but each time they do, it would always end up with awkward silence. The two both knew that they had to address the elephant in the room, wishing that the other would do it for them. England took a deep breath, he knew America was too prideful to admit that he received “the letter”, so he had to make the first move.

“So, Alfred…” he began, “Have you…received any letters recently?”

The question hung in the air for a few moments before America answered, “Nah. I haven’t received any letters, Artie. Why the sudden question, dude?” He tried to keep his voice casual, so that it wasn’t obvious that he was lying. England noticed the tone in America’s voice, “It’s nothing,” He pursed his lips, “Are you sure?” he asked for confirmation. The American nodded and looked away, shoving his hand into his pocket where he kept England’s letter. “I see.” England slightly relaxed in his seat. He managed to save himself from embarrassment, he’s not convinced that America was telling the truth, though. Maybe the American just pitied him, or was planning to blackmail him using his letter. He felt disappointed as well. America didn’t like him like that, he probably doesn’t like him at all.

The door opened to reveal Japan and the rest of the countries involved in the meeting. Japan was hopeful that the two nations had made up, but it seems like he had made matters worse. Both America and England were silent, like they did not even attempt to talk to each other. The Japanese man mentally sighed, maybe he shouldn’t have played matchmaker this time.

.

The meeting ended with success, which was a rare event. Meetings would usually end up with everyone shouting their heads off, and at least one person would be hurled out of the room. The meeting that day ended with no such thing occurring. That was probably because America was unusually quiet throughout the meeting, and England refused to talk unless it was his turn to present. The other nations were unnerved by the unusual behavior of the two nations, but they did not voice it out. Japan on the other hand, thought that he failed as matchmaker and was thinking of other ways to get the two men together.

“It was a wonderful meeting, Mr. England. I look forward to the next one.” Japan bowed his head. England smiled, “Thank you. It was my pleasure being your host.” He told the other man. The other nations said their farewells as they exited the room, one nation lingered a bit longer and dropped something on the floor for the Brit to find, he then rushed out of the room hoping that England didn’t notice him.

England was left alone in the room; it was the host’s job to clean up after all. He stacked the pieces of papers scattered around the table, discarding scraps of paper and placing the chairs back into their positions. As he was finishing, he spotted a piece of paper by the doorway. He groaned and picked it up, he realized that it was an envelope. To his bewilderment, it was the envelope that he had gone to hell and back to look for.

_America, that damn bastard was lying to me, I knew it!_

He was furious that the American had the letter with him the whole time, not only that, it appeared that he had opened it, which made England’s blood turn cold. “That bastard opened it!” he hissed at no one in particular. The Brit was now fuming with rage and embarrassment, he saw that his letter was still inside the envelope, but there was another piece of paper with it. It was a yellow post-it note stuck on the back of his letter. He took it out and read the note written in black bold letters:

**Pick you up at 8? Just call my #, and I’ll make reservations.**

A small doodle of America was winking at him at the bottom of the paper. England felt his heart stop, then restart again.

_This cannot be real. This is a trap. This has to be a trap._

His mind screamed at him, one part of him was saying that he shouldn’t respond because it was most likely a practical joke, while the other part said that he should call him and celebrate because his feelings were returned. The man was torn with what he should do, should he risk it all and call America? He could feel himself pulling out his phone from his pocket, he gawked at the yellow paper then at his phone.

_Should I do it?_

He opened his contacts. America’s name was on top of the list.

_Should I do it?_

He tapped the contact, England’s fingers hovered over the call button.

_Should I…?_

_Tap._

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

“Hey, Iggy…”


End file.
